US PresswireArt Monk pulls down a pass during a game in San Francisco in 1990.

You're Art Monk and you've forever wanted to simply nod and keep walking when others have wished that you'd stop and say hello.

You weren't just shy during those 16 seasons of NFL excellence; you were very nearly silent. Why, in a world filled with athletes whose alarm clocks don't ring but applaud, where stars (and near-stars) play games with their horns stuck, you were Marcel Marceau in a chinstrap.

You caught your passes (940 of them), you gained your yards (12,721 of them) and you scored your touchdowns (68 of them). And then you headed for home and for your bride, Desiree, letting the talkers talk as you marched out the door.

"Quiet about his work," Mark Ripen, the Washington quarterback, once declared when asked about you. "Very loud with his results."

In fact, you're getting inducted, finally, Saturday evening ... in front of all those people ... before all those cameras ... behind all those microphones. Monk's Moment. That's what it's going to be. And folks are going to lean in to listen to what you have to say.

"I've been accused of being quiet," you said back in February when you got the word that, in your eighth year of eligibility, you'd been elected to the Hall. "But that's who I am. It's not intentional, it's not on purpose, it's not deliberate. It's just that I'm a man of few words.

"I speak when I feel there's a need to. But I'm excited about this. I'm excited about going into the Hall. I'm just a little short on words right now. I guess I'm always short on words."

And now ... wow. After Jim Brown (1971), Jim Ringo (1981), Larry Csonka (1987), Al Davis (1992) and John Mackey (1992), you're just the sixth guy with Orange roots who'll have his own bust in Canton. And, sure, you're making an oracle of Bill Parcells, who once said that you were "headed to Canton downhill on roller skates."

If you don't yap about that, you'll never yap about anything.

So ... will you? Will you stand up there on Saturday night in that garish, Hall-issued, canary-colored sport coat and discuss the wonders of you? Will you remind the world that you were the first NFL receiver to ever catch 100 balls in a season, that at one point you were the NFL's all-time leader in career receptions, that you set an NFL record for hauling in at least one pass in 164 consecutive games? Will you shout that three of your Washington squads won Super Bowls?

Of course not. You're Art Monk, who never, not once, pulled out a Sharpie and autographed a football in the end zone after scoring a touchdown. And yet, without the flamboyance that too often rides in the sidecar of greatness, you inspired even your foes.

"Art Monk was always an example for Jerry Rice," said Ronnie Lott, the fierce defender. "That's what Jerry Rice always told me. I know that Art represents what the Hall of Fame is all about. Integrity. Love and passion for the game. What he gave back to the community. Look how he conducted himself. Nobody I know deserves it more."

Art Monk, dignified man. That's what you've been all this time, and that's likely what you'll remain. Indeed, it was not for nothing that one fan poll tabbed you the most popular Redskin of all time and that your alma mater, SU, elected you to its board of trustees.

"I'm very humbled," you said back on Super Bowl Saturday after you'd received your congratulatory call. "It's such a great honor when you think of the guys who have gone before us, who paid their dues and made their sacrifices. Whether I deserved to have played in the NFL or deserve to be in the Hall of Fame, I just loved the game."

It's a funny thing. You're the son of a welder (Arthur) and a domestic (Lela), you caught all of 12 passes during your time at White Plains High School, and during your freshman season at Syracuse you had two (2) receptions. You were not, then, pre-ordained for greatness. But you worked for it, grinded for it both in the classroom and on the field ... and it happened.

And here you are, a day removed from your moment. Monk's Moment. And folks are going to lean in to listen to what you have to say. Because, you know, you'll be a Hall-of-Famer, a football immortal ... while remaining, always, the gentleman receiver.

"It's more than a title," you've said. "It's humbling. I hope I can live up to it."